


laying bare this need

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Canon Compliant, Comfort Sex, F/M, Missing Scene, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: “Do you want to, imzadi?” Deanna asks, breathless.“Yeah,” he says, kissing her again, harder this time. “Whatever you need.” He casts a glance at the door. “We’ll have to be quiet, though. Think you can manage that?”
Relationships: William Riker/Deanna Troi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 97





	laying bare this need

**Author's Note:**

> My trash ass watching Nepenthe: they fucked at some point during the episode.

It’s late by the time they have everyone settled. Deanna breathes a sigh of relief when they can finally close the door to their own room.

They get themselves ready, climb into bed and then Will looks at her with sharp focus. “Imzadi, I know there’s something,” he says.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes well up again. It feels like she’s been crying on and off all day.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, a hand stroking through her hair. “Take your time. If you can’t tell me, I’ll understand.”

“Jean-Luc,” she begins. “He’s dying. He told me years ago there was a defect in his parietal lobe. Swore me to secrecy. It might not have caused any problems, but whatever it is, it’s progressing. I could feel it in his mind, Will. He’s starting to fade. The way I could feel it when Thad was —” She trembles, a fresh wave of tears forcing their way out.

“I know. I know.” There’s a crack in Will’s voice as he pulls her closer. She can sense he doesn't want to talk about Jean-Luc further, and she won't press it.

“You think there are others like Soji, on her planet?” Deanna says, her head on his chest. “Have they been there all this time?

“Probably,” Will says grimly. She looks up at him; his jaw is set. “We had no way of knowing, Deanna. We couldn’t have known. Don’t torture yourself.”

“I suppose.” She sighs heavily.

“I know how hard it was for you today. But you handled it really well. You got that poor girl to trust you when she was obviously terrified as all hell. I just made the pizza.”

“The most important job,” she jokes. “Anyway, I think Kestra did most of the work as far as the trust went. It’s going to take Soji some time.”

“We did pretty good with our girl, didn’t we?” Will says, smiling fondly.

With a noise of agreement, Deanna turns in his arms and kisses him. She makes it open, wet; the kind of kiss that leads to more, and he responds eagerly.

“I thought you were exhausted,” Will says when she pulls back.

“I am,” Deanna says, but there’s a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Do you want to, imzadi?” she asks, breathless. Her hands wander down his slides, slip under his pyjama top to tease at warm skin.

“Yeah,” he says, kissing her again, harder this time. “Whatever you need.” He casts a glance at the door. “We’ll have to be quiet, though. Think you can manage that?” There’s a twinkle in his blue eyes as he settles back against the headboard and pulls her into his lap, her knees either side of him, enough that it rucks up her nightgown.

“Just as long as you don’t _try_ and make me loud.”

Will feigns shock. “Would I ever?” he says, low. He leans in to bite at her neck playfully, his teeth finding their way to the shell of her ear.

He pauses, says in an authoritative tone: “Lock door.” They both relax visibly at the thought they won’t be interrupted.

Deanna makes a soft sound when his mouth presses to her collarbone, because he knows how wet it makes her when he does that. She dips a hand lower, finding the shape of him through fabric where he’s starting to get hard for her.

It momentarily distracts him from teasing her. She takes advantage of that to pull him into a deep, indulgent kiss — the kind of kiss they don’t always have time for as parents of a teenager. Will is nothing if not a multi-tasker: at the same time, he grasps the satin of her nightgown with his strong hands, breaks the kiss to pull it up and over her head in one swift movement.

“Let’s get you out of these,” Deanna says, her tone coaxing.

There’s fire in her gaze when she looks at him, starts unbuttoning the top half of his pyjamas. Her work is interrupted by him capturing her mouth with another kiss, but she manages to unbutton the top, slide it from his shoulders. Deanna’s hand slips into his pants to curl around his cock, and he hisses out a sharp breath.

His hands trace the curves of her breasts, and he’s moving in to press kisses there, following them with swipes of his tongue. Two pregnancies and motherhood have disabused Deanna of any lingering self-consciousness about her body, but Will likes to kiss her stretch marks anyway, his mouth lingering on those tiny threads of silver etched into her skin. She loves the way he’ll always take the time to remind her she’s beautiful for what her body did, for the children they had together.

When his teeth graze her nipple, she gasps _“Will,”_ just that bit too loud.

“Shh,” he instructs, the same satisfied grin on his face that hasn’t changed in forty years. “Always so loud, aren’t you?” She senses the mischief in his thoughts.

Deanna breathes deep, tries to keep herself in the moment, but her thoughts are turning in the direction of everything she doesn’t want to think about.

 _Will, I need to come so badly,_ she admits silently, her fingers in his hair, and the words are tremulous.

Will knows what’s in danger of spilling into her mind, of course — he always knows.

“Hey. You will, if I’ve got anything to say about it.” He presses a kiss behind her ear and adds: “How about…twice? Hold me to it. If I don’t manage that when I’m inside you —” now his tongue darts out to trace a shape on her neck “— then I promise I’ll get my mouth on you until you come again.” He grins. “Hell, I might even do it anyway.”

“Don’t get too carried away,” Deanna teases. “We’re not twenty-five anymore, remember.”

“Ouch,” Will replies, but he grins. She’s going to get it for that comment; she’s sure of it.

She’s already aching in her lower belly, frantic to have him inside her. When he pinches at her nipple — just enough that she’ll keen, gasp out — and follows it up with a bite to her breast, she grabs at his hair.

“I said, don’t make me loud,” she reproves, quietly. Her fingers tighten around his cock where she’s still gripping it; it makes his breath hitch.

“Was I doing something?” Will says innocently. He always loves to tease, but there’s intent behind it. Clear in his thoughts is the simple understanding that she needs a distraction right now, and he's going to give her that.

She’s starting to get uncomfortable and Will senses it because he lifts her off him and shifts himself along until he’s seated on the edge of the bed. He grabs some lube from the bedside drawer, tosses it next to them.

Deanna scrambles after him, wastes no time in hooking her thumbs into his pyjama pants, drawing them down so he can kick them away. Then she’s climbing on top of him, delighting at the glint in his eyes.

“Aren’t you glad I never stopped practising Betazoid flexibility disciplines?”

“Mm, I sure am,” Will says, wrapping his arms around her, his smile bright as he takes in the sight of her atop him. He’s always so happy in these moments, when they can let the world fall away and lose themselves in one another.

She’s grinding on his thigh now, saying, “Will, come on. I’m ready.”

“So impatient,” Will says, and it’s half a grunt as her hand wraps around him, her thumb pressing to the head of his cock, already damp.

“Quiet,” he reminds her, a trace of command in his tone, a remnant of the captain’s rank he left behind long ago. Intent in his eyes, he takes a moment, moves her hand and slicks his cock up along with his fingers. “Lift yourself a bit,” — she does — and two cool, smooth fingers are sliding right up into her.

Deanna bears down on them, making tiny gasps as she bites her lip. Will spreads his fingers wider, making sure she’s as open and wet as he can get her.

“You're so noisy,” he admonishes, mischief flickering beneath the surface of his thoughts that tells her he’s very much pleased up by that. He kisses her deep enough to smother the sounds, deep enough to steal her breath.

 _Please,_ she’s asking in his head, and they break apart.

“Come here,” he says. Deanna lifts herself until she can feel the solid heat of his cock between her thighs, and slides onto him easily.

 _God, Will, it’s so good,_ she sends, and feels him reach for her mind at the same time. It always goes like this: him opening himself for her completely at the same time he’s pushing into her body. For them, the physical connection has never been complete without its mental component, and it’s kept them together all these years, even in their worst moments. Will’s desire feels different in her mind than it used to — steadier, more lived-in — but all the sweeter for it.

 _Imzadi,_ he’s saying in her head, rough but so tender at the same time, and she has to kiss him again, her eyes closing as she lets herself enjoy the sheer relief of him inside her.

As she starts to move, she shifts herself forward just enough that she can grind against his belly.

Will’s laughing, because he can’t not whenever she does that, but she can feel the flare of arousal inside his head at the same time. She loves the softness of him in the same way she loved the angular planes of his body when he was much younger. Sometimes she thinks that’s why the physical part is still so good between them. They’ve always adapted, whether it was to having sex in near-silence when they had a newborn and a five-year-old sleeping in the next room, or the occasional illicit tryst in Will’s ready room when they simply couldn’t find any other time to be alone.

“You’re so wet,” he tells her, reverent. “So hot — fuck.” Deanna can’t help herself; her quiet sounds are swiftly turning to breathy moans. Will offers her his fingers, and she takes them eagerly into her mouth in an erotic echo of the way their bodies are joined.

Her nails dig into his shoulder, her other hand on his back as they find a slow, unhurried rhythm, mindful not to make the bed squeak.

Deanna bites down hard on Will's fingers, enough to make him grunt softly. He pulls her closer, lets her rock on him, get as much friction as she needs.

“You feel amazing,” he says. “I really needed this, too, you know.”

He takes his fingers from her mouth and she replies: “I know.” He shouldn’t be surprised; Deanna always knows what he needs, even when he doesn’t know it himself.

“Easy there, imzadi,” he says, grinning, and hears her laugh as she remembers his ill-advised attempt to stop her from speaking her mind with Jean-Luc. “Can you be good for me? Can you stay quiet?”

“You’re impossible,” Deanna tells him and kisses him, hot and messy so he can catch her moans in his mouth. She’s rocking on him faster now, in time with his thrusts.

Heat’s flaring in his eyes and the hand on her lower back presses harder, keeping her close as she grinds down against his belly. He hushes her with a soft noise into her hair and keeps on going, the way she likes it, the way that’ll make her break for him.

_Oh God, Will, I’m going to come, please, please —_

Will loves her like this: needy, wrecked, begging for release.

 _Scream as loud as you want, in here_ , he suggests. Along with the sharp snap of his hips into hers, the pressure on her clit, his words are enough to send her over the edge. She presses her hands to his shoulders, her eyes squeezing shut as her body starts to clench around him, the sick, awful tension of the last few hours flooding out of her.

Deanna’s moaning and crying out in his head, but though her teeth are ground shut, she can’t stop the moans that slip out. In an instant, Will has a hand clapped over her mouth to muffle the sound, obvious humour in his blue eyes as he lets her ride out the orgasm. If he hadn’t had decades of practice she could take him right with her, but a combination of age and the mental discipline she’s taught him means he can keep his orgasm to himself, for now.

“You did that on purpose,” Deanna chides, breathing shakily against his neck.

“I know I can keep you quiet,” Will says, inside her still but unmoving, letting her catch her breath. “Doesn’t mean I don’t want you being loud for me — just for me.”

His cock’s pulsing inside her, and she knows he can feel her inner muscles still fluttering against him, the flicker of her arousal in his head.

“One more, then,” he says with a grin. His hands spread out over the front of her hips, encouraging her to move. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yes, please,” Deanna says with a smile of anticipation. She leans in for a quick kiss before they get down to it all over again.

She buries her face in his neck as they move together, Will intent on getting her towards her next orgasm. She’s flushed and shaking, but she wants more anyway and he knows it, knows her body as well as his own after all this time.

His belly’s a wet mess already, from her; it only adds to the sensation, the slick, filthy sound of skin sliding against skin.

She bites down on his neck so she won’t cry out, making him groan, keeping up a silent litany in his mind of _Will_ and _yes_ and _please._

“Hey, look at me,” he says, a hand coming up to her hair, lifting her head. “There you go.” His gaze is intimate, soft; the kind of look he saves for these small, private moments when it’s just the two of them.

This time, he captures her mouth with his just as she starts to come, his fingers tight in her hair as he tells her: _Shh, quiet, that’s it, you come for me._ She’s making desperate, keening sounds both in his head and into his mouth, and he kisses her through it until she finally stills in his arms, loose-limbed and sated. Her climax in his mind is like an electric current shot through a wire; all of his desire lights up where it’s entwined with hers, and he can’t not follow.

Will buries his face in her hair as he comes with a quiet, restrained groan. She wraps her arms around his back, soothes him through it.

_Mm, that feels so good, doesn’t it? You needed that._

“God, yes,” Will says, the words sounding raw.

There’s a slick sound as she climbs off him with still-trembling legs. He runs a hand up the inside of her thigh, to feel where he’s already trickling out of her; she shivers.

“If that’s not enough, you know I’d be happy to get you off again with my mouth,” Will says, entirely serious though she can sense the exhaustion blurring the edges of his mind.

“Mm, not tonight,” Deanna says, yawning.

They tidy themselves up, retrieve their nightwear, get dressed.

Once they’re back in bed, Will asks: “You want to talk about it?” His mind’s relaxed, content, but there’s a weight beneath the words.

“He looks strong, Will,” she says at last. “He’s made a few missteps but he’s still the Captain Picard we remember. You know he’d never want to be pitied. He has a purpose now, and I guess that’s something.”

“He’s the closest thing I ever had to a father, Deanna,” Will says. At one time, he never would have admitted that.

“He knows you love him,” Deanna replies. “That’s going to have to be enough. This mission — it’s dangerous. I wish we could do more.”

“We might not see him again.” Will sighs. “I know I have to accept that. It’s part of the life we lived. The Federation we served so dutifully.” In recent years, Will has shed most of his bitterness regarding the ban in a way she couldn’t. It’s oddly gratifying to sense a hint of it now.

“If I were to bet on anyone, it would be Jean-Luc Picard,” she says.

“True enough. Besides, if today is anything to go by, that mind of his is still sharp as a tack.”

“That it is." The smile she turns on him is slightly sad. "Speaking of fathers, you’re the best one I know,” she tells him with a kiss to his forehead. “We should sleep. It’s late.”

In that unreal space between sleep and waking, Deanna registers warmth on her skin. At first, she wonders if she’s dreaming.

“Morning,” Will says. He’s tracing fingers down her spine, following each touch with a press of his mouth, right down to where her nightgown begins.

“Mm,” Deanna says, luxuriating in the sensations but keeping her eyes closed.

It’s bright behind her eyelids even before she opens them. They’d forgotten to close the curtains and sun is streaming onto their bed through the skylight.

“It’s not even six yet,” Will whispers. She smiles at the tickle of his beard against sleep-warmed skin, at the muted arousal taking shape in his thoughts. “Sorry; had to go to the bathroom. When I came back to bed, you looked so tempting. Couldn’t help myself.”

Deanna is tired but coming around to the idea of being awake. Hazily, she stretches out to sense the other inhabitants of the house.

“The girls are still asleep,” she says in answer to Will’s unspoken question. Her voice is scratchy with sleep. “Jean-Luc’s near to waking up, but somehow, I don’t think he’ll be coming in.”

“Good.” His hand wanders over to her breast, cups it through the lace and satin. “Tired?”

It’s rare they manage to find time for such things in the morning. Will is clearly determined to make the most of it.

“Very.” Her nipple hardens under his touch; she gasps. “You did wear me out last night.”

“Whatever can I do to make it up to you?” A gentle bite to her neck, now. He’s taking her shoulders, settling her against the pillows as he pushes the comforter off them both.

Will pushes up her nightgown and trails kisses down her body, making sure to catch her most ticklish places with his beard until she twitches against him. Then he fits his shoulders between her thighs and spreads her open with gentle hands for the wet heat of his mouth. He takes it slow, knowing she’s still half-asleep and needs a little build-up. She has to pull a pillow over her face so she can bite down on it, muffle the sounds she’s making.

It takes Deanna a while to come — a combination of sleepiness and being sensitive from last night — but Will is careful, skilled enough when it comes to her body that he knows he can draw a climax out of her anyway. By the time she comes for him, she’s thoroughly awake, two hands pressed to his scalp and her toes curling where they rest on his back.

She’s too breathless to speak, so she tells him without words: _I love it when it when you wake me up like this. Sometimes I think I love that more than anything else you do to me._

“I know,” Will says, leaning back in to kiss her where she’s still pulsing slightly; she whimpers.

With both hands on his shoulders, she pulls him up for a kiss, not caring that she’s utterly soaked his beard. She rubs at her own face, strokes her thumbs over his chin as if anything’s going to sort that mess out besides a shower.

“If you didn’t get so wet —” Will jokes, but she hears the heat beneath it; how much he loves tasting her, wearing her all over his face.

“Now…” Deanna says, coquettish, sliding her hand down his body. Quick as a flash, she’s pushed him onto his back.

Deanna gives him a wild look before sliding down his body, settling herself between his legs. Her thumbs brush at the skin of his inner thighs and he smiles, reaching down to slide a hand into her hair.

 _Relax. Just feel._ Her voice is silky in his head; his breaths are already turning uneven.

She presses kisses and bites into the soft, tender skin of each thigh, leaving red, warm marks in her wake. By the time she licks along the length of him and takes him into her mouth, right down to the root, Will is groaning softly, the back of his hand over his own mouth so he won’t shout. Tendrils of her hair brush his thighs as she presses her hands to his hips, takes him even deeper.

 _Oh my God, Deanna,_ he sends, reminding himself he can’t be loud. She smiles around his cock and he hears her laugh inside his head. He realises this is her way of getting him back for all his teasing last night. He’s not exactly complaining.

_Noisy, aren’t we, Will? Stay quiet remember, we’ve got a full house._

He pulls at her hair in retaliation, just a little, and has to bite down on his hand when she curls her tongue around that spot that drives him crazy. He’s pulsing in her mouth, making every effort to smother the sounds she’s drawing out of him. Then she trails her fingers lower, presses them to the hot, tight skin behind his balls, and he’s gone. He comes like he’s being shaken out of his skin, hard and hot and right down her throat, panting out slow breaths into his hand so he won’t make any other noises. Deanna takes every bit of it, licks him through every tremor until he slips fingers under her jaw and she draws back.

_That was amazing, imzadi._

_Well, after you did such a good job waking me up…seemed only fair._

“We should probably go figure out breakfast for our guests,” Will says once he’s regained any kind of coherence. Deanna presses a kiss to his chest, grins at him, very self-satisfied.

Reluctantly, he gets out of bed. “Are you okay to go and put the coffee on?” he says, pausing at the door to their ensuite because there’s no way he’s going to use their outdoor shower in this state.

“After that?” Deanna grins at him, radiant and sated, her hair fanned out behind her on the pillow. “I think you could ask me to do anything.”

She’s so beautiful. She’ll never stop being that way to him, he thinks.

Deanna’s face softens as that thought touches her mind.

Will grins at her. “I’ll let you imagine what I’m going to be thinking about in the shower.”

She can't escape his lurid thoughts while she brushes her teeth, attempts to make herself presentable. It's incredibly distracting and Will knows exactly what he's doing.

Downstairs, she passes him a cup of coffee in a long-familiar routine.

“Thanks, imzadi,” Will says, taking a sip. He pours steel-cut oats into a pan, adds milk, rummages in the cupboards for cinnamon and honey.

Deanna dices up a spherical, blue fruit native to the planet. It's similar in flavour and texture to a banana, and will be good with the oatmeal.

“I’m going to contact Starfleet,” Will says, resolve in his eyes as he stirs the mixture. “I still have some pull in the right places. And, unlike Jean-Luc, I never got on the wrong side of Kirsten Clancy.” He grins. “That should help.”

Deanna tamps down on the sudden sick feeling in her stomach. Will is one of the most decorated and experienced officers in Starfleet. She knows they’d jump at the chance to have him, and likely, to put him at the vanguard of any incursion into the Ghulion system.

“Is there time?”

Will’s gaze is measured when he looks at her. “I keep my ear to the ground. They’ve got some pretty fast ships.”

“Whatever happens, just be careful,” she tells him, making sure to keep her own fears from the surface of her mind.

“I always am.” He touches her shoulder briefly, gives her a look as though he knows what she's thinking anyway.

“Come down! There’s coffee,” he shouts up the stairs in usual exuberant fashion. “Breakfast coming up.”

Above, the floorboards creak as the rest of the house gets moving, the excited hum of Kestra’s voice mixing with Soji’s calmer tones. But for a few more moments, the morning is theirs alone. She won’t spoil it with worrying about the future.

He slips an arm around her waist. “I’d say we’re pretty lucky, wouldn’t you?”

Grief colours his thoughts for a moment, and she shares it, too. The feeling is older now, more familiar, but Jean-Luc and Soji's visit has understandably brought it to the forefront of their thoughts. They are grateful anyway. To have each other, their family, and a little more time with an old friend feels like a gift worth celebrating.

Deanna covers his hand with hers, leans back against his chest. “Absolutely.”


End file.
